tP 'V 6 /^r:^A o^^r^.% c°V y* „ ^ * o „ v-^ v/v«^ » .- 4 Jo f ■< %4 >° <.o, <-*■■ <£.".,<* /\— oSJ >Vv-.\ ■ ^Q, * * * s Q> * / s - . > ^ << ^ ,G* London Bridge; OR, CAPITAL. AND LABOR. & gom Ut the ®im<^ BY PROFESSOR JAMES A. MARTLING. 33 For heaven holds men of one degree ; An equal-born fraternity. m BOSTON: JAMES H. EARLE, PUBLISHER, 20 FIAWLEY STREET. I88l. (7N COPYRIGHT, l88l, By.E. L. Martling. Stereotyped at the Boston Stereotype Foundry, No. 4 Pearl Street. J9c i"Z> WRITTEN FOR MY WIFE, EMILY, AND DEDICATED TO Ths Wotbingmen of frmmcn* PREFATORY NOTE. Professor Martling's complete poetical works', in one volume, will soon be given to the public. " Los Angeles," which first appeared in the San Francisco Bulletin, and was copied by our western and Now York papers, was by many public men called a " lit- tle gem." Rev. M. L. Williston, now in Germany, writes, " I pronounce it a modern classic." Of his last poem, on " Death," Wendell Phillips says, "I think the Professor's verses very striking and beautiful, and the lines are exquisitely finished." • This forthcoming collection of Poems contains vivid pictures of every-day life. Some of them have become historic, dating back to anti-slavery times. Professor Martling translated Homer's "Illiad," but had only published the first Book. The follow- ing are some of the criticisms sent him : Hon. Wm. E. Gladstone, Prime Minister of Eng- land, said of it, " It seems to me to do him great credit." Wendell Phillips wrote, " It shows great mastery of the original, and rare power of language." Dr. Post of St. Louis : "The translation seems to me scholarly, and executed with rare fidelity and ex- actness of correspondence, in word and thought, to the original : at the same time it is poetic in diction, and with rhythmic harmony of structure." "London Bridge" was written at Spadra, in 1878, but the "Prologue" and " Workingmen's Song" were writen in 1SS0. j^oi\s* of tl\e \\^oi x ki:q^i]qer\. SONG OF THE WORKINGMEN. We be workingmen, we ! Ours be shoulders labor-worn, Arms of brawn and hands of horn ; Still, though sometimes overborne, — Still, though toil be paid with scorn, — Independent we ! Not of the commune, we ! Corn should, grow for him who delves ; Heaven helps them that help themselves ; But the secret tens and twelves Nurse a host of sponging elves ! Not of the Jacobins, we! 11 I2 LONDON BRIDGE. Not of the anarchists, we ! In this country of the free, All is hope for you and me ; If there something higher be, Who should have it, if not we ? Not of the levelers, we ! Not of agrarians, we ! Labor is not all a curse ! Toil is hard, but crime is worse ! Have we but an empty purse, That the morrow may reverse ! Not of the sand-lot, we ! Not of infidels, we ! Nay, and even if we were, Could a fellow-laborer To such Leader dare demur, \ v SONG OF THE WORKINGMEN 13 As the Christ — the Carpenter ? Nay, no infidels, we ! We are workingmen, we ! Christ His followers thus addressed ; Whoso asks to be confessed Chief of all and lordliest, Should be servant to the rest ! We are servants, we ! Though we journeymen be, Sometimes tramps, unhoused, unfed, Wanderers disinherited ! Still, of Some One was it said : " Not a where to lay his head ! ' " Tramps ? " — And what was He ? H LONDON BRIDGE. We be laborers, we ! We behold benignant eyes, Bending on us from the skies, Telling us that we can rise, Only through self-sacrifice ! We be workingmen, we ! PROLOGUE. Fairest of lands ! Sole home of liberty ! Land of the free ! — the equal home of all ! Land of my love ! I have a fear for thee Lest the strong arches of thy fabric fall Into remediless ruin, as the wall Of haughty Nineveh ; and one shall sit — Him hap, who on the ruins of St. Paul Sits to sketch London Bridge — and add to it Thee too, when Troja fnit, shall of thee be writ. I fear for thee, lest of the pillared state, Through lust of office, and the greed of gain, Thine equal arches from unequal weight, Topple and plunge into the depths amain. 2 17 1 8 LONDON BRIDGE. The clamors of the poor — thy cry of pain My mother in thine agony ! — the stay — The pier is groaning 'neath the unwonted strain, And battlement and buttress may give away ! God in His infinite pity long avert the day ! Yet not the commune — not the levelers Who always level downward — to the poor Are their best friends. The crude philoso- phers From gorge and lapstone — ignorant and sure Because so ignorant, — they can never cure The ills of social order ! — and, indeed, The ill is not all ill, and to endure Is manly, were it ill. The better creed Is this — 'tis Christ's — let each regard his brother's need. PROLOGUE. 19 All is not ill, if rightly understood ; That is not ill that stirs the inner fire ; The inequalities of life are good : They serve to quicken us — to wake desire For wealth it may be — or for somewhat higher. And the low hind, whom pinching want compels To ceaseless labor, if his want inspire Him to incessant struggle, he excels Himself thereby, and may attain to some- thing else. And charity and gentle sympathy — The fellow-feeling for a brother's woe — Are ever born of dire necessity! Ah ! if there were no want, we must forego The fountains sweet of tenderness, that glow 20 LONDON BRIDGE. From the full heart of pity — bubbling o'er In kindly deeds, that human nature show Still Godlike in commiseration for The Master's poor — that we have with us evermore ! The " Builder of the Bridge " — the " Ponti Fex ! " Termed wisely thus the ancient Roman race, Their highest priest, who wielded both the Rex That symbolized religion, and the mace Of office in the commonwealth's chief place — Head of the church and state at once. If we As wisely could conjoin the strength and grace Of law and love, there could no danger be, Land of my birth, I then should have no fear for thee ! LONDON BRIDGE. ARAH and Bessie, And Lucy and Lily, And Jack and Jessie, And Tom and Tilly, All were playing at London Bridge, While at the door was Little Midge, Holding her dolly to her breast, Watching and dreaming about the rest. 23 2 4 LONDON BRIDGE. Back and forth they swayed and swung, And a childish ditty sung ; O'er and o'er, again, again, One monotonous reffain, " London Bridge is fallen down. Fallen down, fallen down, London Bridge is fallen down, My fair lady /" II. The wind was blowing up from the sea, Lightly caressing forehead and hair, Kissing them all, the brown and the fair ; For Heaven holds men of one degree, An equal-born fraternity, — And all were on a level there. Plain their garb, but necklace and crown Fell from the largess of the sun ; CHILDHOOD. 25 Gem and jewel were raining down, Flecking and decking every one, — Decking them all, the brown and the fair, For all were on a level there, — For heaven holds men of one degree, An equal-born fraternity ! Back and forth they swayed and swung ! O'er and o'er their song they sung ; One monotonous refrain, Like the patter of the rain, Like the moan of summer's breeze, Like the hum of summer's bees, — Like the wash of silver seas, Over strands of silvern sands ; — Like a symphony of bells, — Like the song of ocean shells, — » Like the noises of a town In a dreamy land ! 26 LONDON BRIDGE. " London Bridge is fallen down — Fallen down — fallen down ! London Bridge is fallen down. My lady fair! " Happy, happy childhood's days ! Happy, happy childhood's plays ! Healthful limbs and hearts of feather ! Every joint and thew astrain, — Tugging with their might and main !- Pulsing, struggling together ! All the sport is in the strife ! Face to face and might to might, So they keep the bridge aright ! Ah ! that thus it were with life ! Happy, happy childhood's years ! All were fellows there and peers ! THE FUTURE. 27 III. This was in the long ago ; Some are wrinkled now, and old ; Some are in the church-yard mold, Sleeping where the roses grow ! " London Bridge is fallen down, fallen dotun, Fallen down ! London Bridge is fallen down, My lady fair /" This was in the long ago, Little, — little do we know What the future hath in store — What there is that lieth before Any of us, — if there be at our feet Bridal robe, or winding sheet! 28 LONDON BRIDGE. IV. Ah, 't were better to be dead, Than forsaking love and truth, With disdain and scorn to tread On the playmates of our youth ! It were better to be dead, Than from truth and love to part, And to live and have it said, " His is dry-rot of the heart ! " It were better to be dead, Than to live with heavy purse, — Heavy with the price of bread, — Heavy with the poor man's curse ! It were better to be dead, Than with leprous soul and feet, Drag, as felons, to the Dread Presence of the judgment seat ! BETTER TO BE DEAD. 2 9 V. It were better to be dead, — Better — better in the grave, Than survive our manhood fled, And to be a rich man's slave! It were better to be dead, Than to see our kith and kin — E'en the wife whose youth we wed, Pale with want, and hunger thin ! It were better to be dead, Than to live and curse our kind, — Tramping with despairing tread, For the work we cannot find ! It were better to be dead, Than to hear the hopeless cry Of our little ones for bread ! Christ ! it were not hard to die ! 30 LONDON BRIDGE. VI. London Bridge is fallen down ! Arch and buttress all are gone : Truss and beam and massy stone, All by time are overthrown ; — And the fragments scattered far, Like the fragments of a star ; — Some perhaps with fire divine, And self-luminous, to shine ; In the empyrean to burn, Symbols of the soul eterne ! — Wanderers some, from place to place, Planets, fugitive through space, Through the boundless void of heaven, Into utter darkness driven ! SARAH. 33 VII. London Bridge is fallen down ! Arching way and battlement, Wedded beams asunder rent, In the floods to surge and drown I Jeweled sunbeams tripping o'er, Tread the dimpled arms no more ! Flitting smiles, and love and pride, Dash no more from side to side ! Laugh no more, nor boisterous shout, From the angles leapeth out ! Here and there the fragments strown, London Bridge is fallen down ! VIII. Sarah lonsr asro was wed To a thrifty Yorkshire farmer, And they called her Mrs. Armor : 34 LONDON BRIDGE. And the simple life she led, Made her healthful and content, — Kept her sweet and innocent : For the plenty of her board, Blesses she the loving Lord ; Grudging not nor crust nor sigh, For the homeless passer-by, But with tears her eyes bedim, As she looketh upon him, And she scarce can get her breath As unto herself she saith : " London Bridge is fallen down ! — Fallen down ! " Homeless wanderers such as he, Fugitive from fortune's frown, Haply may my playmates be ! BESS. 35 IX. Laughing, rollicking, frolicking Bess Became an Australian shepherdess ; For she married a fellow, who one fine day, Poached, and was sent to Botany Bay. But to her husband clung our Bess, In his shame and in his disgrace, And she helped him to hold up his face, And get them a home in the wilderness. There they stumbled on gold, and came Into America, just before The breaking out of the civil war, -Whence he emerged with rank and fame, Stolen cotton and rotten beef Stamped him murderer and thief! But the press became his bawd, And for hire concealed the fraud ! Trump and cannon hailed him chief ! 36 LONDON BRIDGE. Then with his fame and gold, he won A place in Congress, at Washington. There his wife is a star, of course, Mrs. General Wilberforce ! He ? his vote is always sure For the oppressors of the poor ! When with him our Bessie pleads, Telling of the poor man's needs, Telling him of childhood's days, — To the pleading of her eyes, In the pauses of her sighs, The besotted monster says : " He will vote for London Bridge, If to place and privilege, To the fortunate and rich It devote a special niche : But the London Bridge they made, When she with her playmates played, LUCY. It is fallen — fallen down ! Fill the cup till memory drown ! He had dropped his childhood off! Men are but a hoggish host, In a scramble for the trough, And the biggest gets 'the most ! " X. Lucy went to the hall as maid, On sped the years, and still she stayed ; Modest, humble, satisfied, There she stayed till the lady died, Stayed and took the keys in her hands, While the earl withdrew to foreign lands ; Stayed, and ate of angels food — The communion of the good ; For she loving converse held, With the sages who of eld 37 38 LONDON BRIDGE. Caused our English tongue to rise To the level of the skies ; Drank she of the living well, Pure and inexhaustible, Of philosophy and song, Draughts that made her spirit strong, And that drew her from the plain, Where, too oft her sex remain, E'en through grossness dense as night Delved, as miners delve for coal, Changing it to glorious light, In the alembic of her soul ! Soothed by the gentle touch of the years, The earl found solace for his tears ; And, 'neath that sky whose folds beneath His loved one lay, again could breathe ; And could endure again to tread Where lay the ashes of his dead. LUCY. When he returned, he found the fair, And ripe, and matronly Lucy there. Was she beneath him ? Not if youth, And beauty and a soul of truth, And sterling sense, and manners frank, May compensate for lack of rank, Lack of rank ? The man who can Keep through life his soul erect, True to God and true to man, — He is peer, of God elect ! For her dower our Lucy brought Such a soul illumed with thought, She had left the dregs and lees, And had culled from learning's page Honey, pure as that which bees Cull from California sage. She brought to him a life untaint ; She brought the virtues of a saint, 39 40 LONDON BRIDGE. If such inhere in living woman, And be not wholly superhuman. He brought his wealth and rank, and she God's patent of nobility ! If there condescension were It was not from him to her, Well, they were wed, and she became Thereby the Lady Lucy Graeme ! Lady, lady Lucy Graeme ! Though we hold you free from blame, Yet the feudal heritage From a past and ruder age, Park and meadow, glade and lea, From the mountain to the sea, Which the barons, stout and fierce, Won and held with bows and spears, — Golden leaflet, wreath of pearl, Which are brought you by the earl, — MIDGE TO LILY. 41 These, though you be free from blame, Though we deem you all the same, In your leal and noble heart, Wrest you from your mates apart. They for bread may toil and sweat, While your temples you encrown, With a jeweled coronet ! " London Bridge is fallen down ! — Fallen down ! — fallen down ! My fair lady ! " XL O youth and love ! The light and melody Of life ! whereof our souls grow weary ne'er, Stale, flat, and unprofitable, albeit, be All else : — and palling on the eye and ear ; Making us look with longing to the bier ! 42 LONDON BRIDGE. Love came to Lily's youth, a morning star Of opaline dawn, that ever shone more clear. Love, as the morning from his radiant car, Signaled to Hope, upon the luminous heights afar. So wrote our Midge of Lily. But she sung Herself a homelier strain, with voice as sweet As ever starling, in the dews, among The orange-blooms, or bobolink in the wheat, Frank, cheerful, kind, unsullied with deceit ; Full of all human impulse, good and true ; Sure of her lover, whom she knew complete In manliness ; into her love she grew ! And carolled oft such song, as here we give to you. LILY'S SONG. 43 Lily's Song. Bob, the banker, came to me, Asking me his wife to be, He has money, he has lands, He has soft and dainty hands ; But my heart it was not free, And he could not wed with me. Nay, I shall be, for I can Be the wife of a workingman. " Little Lily, go with me, Mistress of my fate to be ; Maids are waiting your commands, And you need not soil your hands." That was what he said, but I Curtly gave him this reply : 44 Nay, I will be, for I can Be the wife of a workingman ! " 44 LONDON BRIDGE. I know some one I'll confess, Who he is you cannot guess : But he is so wise and strong, And his life so free from wrong ! I'll not wear a satin dress ; I'll not lounge in idleness ; But I shall be, for I can, Be the wife of an honest man ! Little Lily ! Alas, alas ! She is lying under the grass ! In the village cold and still, Among the marbles under the hill ! O she was beautiful that day ! We had crowned her Queen of May ; Then her cheeks were rosy red ; Rose, no lily, then they said. LILY. 45 Donald was there, so dear to her ! Such a well-matched pair they were ! Proud was he of his bonnie love, Proud of the mettled steeds he drove. Gayly, gayly rode they away, At the close of the festal day. On the morrow they would wed : — Ere the morrow, they were dead ! Close to the brink of the Hermit's Ledge, Close to the precipice's edge, Reared the steeds, and before us all, Plunged they down the mountain wall ! Hark to the cry of wild despair ! 'Tis the eldritch scream of the steeds, mid air ! 46 LONDON BRIDGE. Down and down to the gulf beneath, Into the open jaws of death ! O the woful, woful day ! There our mangled darlings lay ! — Under the dewy sycamore's drip Arm in arm and lip to lip ! So we laid them under the grass, — Her and her Donald ! alas, alas ! In the village under the hill, Lily pale, and cold and still ! XII. Jack was a brawny lad of eleven ; Jessie a little girl of seven ; Playmates true ; but what else were She to him,, or he to her ? JACK AND BESSIE. 47 Nought? but something might have been, At twenty-one and seventeen. Then the awkward lad be^an To reveal the handsome man ; Then the beauteous maiden stood Perfect in her womanhood ! Then must to herself confess Her surpassing loveliness : Then would e'en in secret blush, With her conscious passion's flush. And were this a tale of love, Here were told what charms inwove, Here were told what spells inwrought Heart and hope, and aim and thought, Every throb of brain and blood, Like intergrowing bud and bud, By the gardeners cunning craft, In a common stock ingraft. 48 LONDON BRIDGE. Like the mists that down the side Of the mountain slowly glide, As they to the vale descend Indistinguishably blend ; — As the silver and the gold Which the mountain treasuries hold, Molten by volcanic heat, Till like ocean tides they beat, In a common mass are run, And indissolubly one, — So that all the chemist's art Them can nevermore dispart. Souls thus graft by cunning love, From each other ne'er remove ; Spirits thus that interblend, Heavenward evermore ascend ; Lives thus molten into one, Sever not till life is done. JACK AND JESSIE. 4 g In a cottage by the sea, Noiselessly, noiselessly, As the swans on mountain meres, Floated by their happy years. As the billows on the seas, Waved their barley on the lees. As the breakers at their feet, Was the blossom of their wheat ; As the voices of the brine, Was the lowing of their kine ; Plenty for them, many a gift Dropped into the hand of thrift. In the grass, the roses 'mong, Other flowers in time there sprung ; Fun, at even, sported with Sylvan boys that were no myth : Echo laughed amid the swirls Of the laughter of their girls. 5y an author of sueh brilliant reputation, should be in every library. " Adinijjribly told." — Senator Geo. F- Hoar. "Exceedingly satisfactory." — Mrs. General Garfield. Charles Jewett, M. D. By Wiliiam M. 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